


Novus Partus

by PussyButter



Category: Dead Space
Genre: Gen, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PussyButter/pseuds/PussyButter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They bring down the moon together. And they say romance is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Novus Partus

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Novus Patrus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981979) by [Beckett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckett/pseuds/Beckett)



> Okay, so. Firstly, this DOES CONTAIN a spoiler for the new DLC. It's a branch from canon, but it still uses canon elements so please don't read this if you don't want to be spoiled. Okay? Okay.
> 
> So.
> 
> There isn't anything else to be warned about. This is simple and clean. It spans time from their journey through the Roanoke to the beginning of the new DLC, and I wrote this with the idea that the entire operation spanned a few days instead of just several hours. Which is weird when you think about it.
> 
> So.
> 
> Let's do this thing!

There’s probably something wrong with a relationship founded on mutual dementia, Carver thinks. And death.

It’s only a _little_ fucked up.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

More clattering from the vent system. Isaac readies his cutter and knocks his shoulder against Carver’s sharply.

_Stay alert._

They stay like that - quiet - most of the time, communicating with bumps and pokes and the knocking of boots when their own voices could effectively be their undoing. They have their own set of hand signals too, because Isaac’s still a civilian when all’s done and Carver doesn’t have close to the amount of patience needed to teach him properly.

So they make it up. It works.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

 

They talk when they feel it’s safe, Isaac more than Carver. About what they’ll do if (they both carefully avoid saying _when_ ) they get down to Tau Volantis and turn off the machine. The man’s an optimist, despite trying to play the gritty cynic; Carver can hear the ring of it in Isaac’s voice. Carver points this out once, the optimism, and is unsettled by the silence he gets as a reply.

They have a lot of those sometimes.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

 

They take breaks in closets, or back in the quarantine chamber on the Roanoke. They talk in whispers, sitting shoulder to shoulder. Carver feels a little uncomfortable having someone so in-his-personal-bubble, but it’s a routine. He gets used to it. They sleep in shifts, sitting up; Isaac sleeps with his chin buried in his chest, and groans softly when he wakes up and his neck pops, and Carver gives him shit over his age. Carver sleeps with his head tilted back, against the wall, and Isaac gives _him_ shit over drooling all over his suit.

Sometimes they list too far to the side and end up sleeping on the other’s shoulder. They don’t talk about it.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

Rosen and Locke are dead and the rest disappeared along with half the shuttle and are probably also dead; Carver decides that with the Marker comes insanity _and_ shitty luck.

He and Isaac are still kicking when they should’ve, by rights, been dead a long fucking time ago. But they’re still here, stumbling through snow, with Isaac screaming for Langford – _godfuckingdammit, shut the hell up Clarke_ – and Carver trying to drag his ass close to wreckage fires so they both don’t freeze to death.

Insanity and shitty luck. A winning combination.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

The rest of the crew is _not_ dead, but dies quickly, spare Langford. Carver takes a moment for each one; for Buckell, and Santos. Norton is more complicated.

What Isaac did do - had to do - it messes him up in his head. More than he already is. So he pushes it aside. Makes it uncomplicated. 

He notices that he still calls the man Isaac, if only in his head. That's something.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

Isaac gets Carver through his Marker episode under the munitions depot, and tactfully looks away when Carver disengages his helmet starts into his Emotional Moment; dry heaving and crying is not a good look on anyone.

When he finally gets it together, Carver clears his throat and gives a gruff, “Thanks,” praying that’ll be the end of it (it never is though).

“No problem. And hey.”

Isaac disengages his helmet and looks Carver in the eyes. “This thing we’ve got goin’ on in our heads, the hallucinations and the whispering? It doesn’t just _stop_ , or – or up and go away. Even after,” Carver doesn’t need to ask what he means by _after_ , “And I’d be lying to you if I said it got better.”

Carver raises an eyebrow. “Motivating.”

Isaac gives a jagged attempt at a grin. “What I mean is you deal with it. You did deal with it, better than I did. Didn’t let it drag you down.” He paws at the back of his neck; he’s flustered. “But if it starts up again and it’s too much to deal with – the hallucinations, or whatever – you can, y’know. Tell me. It’s easier. Um.” More pawing.

Carver stares at him long enough that Isaac starts to fidget and break eye contact. Carver doesn’t know what to do with something like this, so he does what soldiers are supposed to do. He defuses the situation.

“You’re one soppy bastard, Isaac Clarke.”

Isaac takes the cue with gratitude and breaks the moment with a laugh. It’s low and gravelly, and Isaac’s eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles. It’s a nice smile, Carver notes distantly. Isaac has nice teeth.

“Fuck you too, Carver.”

Carver snaps back to himself and realizes there may be a problem.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

The two of them bring down the moon together. And they say romance is dead.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

Carver curses in every language and with every word he knows when he realizes he is not, in fact, dead, but still very much alive and _very much stranded_ on a planet that is still very much iced over, but now with the pleasant addition of a crashed moon.

He tells himself that there is no way they both could have survived that.

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

He runs into Isaac literally five minutes afterwards and doesn’t even pretend to be surprised.

 

 

 

\--+--+--+--

 

 

 

What he does do is disengage his helmet and paw at Isaac until he does the same. Isaac gets a word out before Carver grabs his face in his hands and pulls their mouths together. He can feel Isaac’s hands flailing and scrabbling, and the scratch of his beard against Carver’s lips, and how Isaac's mouth opens slightly, letting Carver curl his tongue against the roof of Isaac's mouth.

He pulls back after a minute, because this is neither the time nor the place and because Isaac is two seconds away from beheading him by a plasma bolt misfire. Carver takes note of Isaac’s flushed cheeks and nose, parted lips and wide eyes. Their breath steams in the air between them, mingling before blowing away; they haven’t moved away from each other.

Carver cups the back of Isaac’s neck and brings their foreheads together. Isaac breathes out, and it feels warm against Carver’s face before it freezes against his skin. They stay like that, just for a moment, before pulling away and engaging their helmets.

Carver bumps against his boot against Isaac’s. They can deal with the sexuality crisis later.

_Let’s the get the fuck outta here, yeah?_


End file.
